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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265529">A Lesson In T(s)exting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardmonster/pseuds/minyardmonster'>minyardmonster</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Andrew is in the shower for a VERY long time okay, Dirty Talk, Discussion of Boundaries, I didnt think about it, M/M, Or My Poor Attempt At It, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexting, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Smut, This is entirely self indulgent smut, but fuck it would b funny if they where taking these photos on their fossil fliphones huh, he's surprsingly good at it, i write as if this is based in current year so imagine they have iphones, neil learns how to sext, yes/no - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:53:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265529</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyardmonster/pseuds/minyardmonster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He lets his fingers drag through hair, massaging and occasionally digging the blunts of his fingers into Andrew’s scalp. The silence becomes a bit too much when Andrew pulls away to rinse his own hair out, though, so Neil does his best to work through that heavy feeling. “You’re going to have to teach me how to sext, I think.” He gets a slight snort in return, but Neil knows Andrew isn’t laughing at him, would never laugh at him when they’re like this, so he continues. “I uh, I feel bad about the thumbs up photo.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>372</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Lesson In T(s)exting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sexting was not something Neil Josten had ever really had a reason to do before Palmetto, before </span>
  <em>
    <span>Andrew. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The two of them had spoken about it briefly, but Neil had just shrugged his indifference and they’d left it at that. So, needless to say, he didn’t really know what to do with the photo currently displayed on his phone. Even without contact ID Neil would have known this was of Andrew, even without his face displayed in the image. He swallowed thickly as he looked down at Andrew’s muscled thighs, the dip of his hips that were visible from where Andrew’s free hand was pushed up under his shirt, leaving his dick the forefront of the photo, flushed and leaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a single follow up message; </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Andrew: 2:14PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>thkn abt u</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glances up from where he’s holding his phone in his lap, realising very quickly it was a mistake to open this in the middle of a lecture. He locks his phone and ignores the way it vibrates in his pocket again, shifting in his seat and making a valiant effort to focus on Spanish verbs. He makes it maybe 20 minutes before a third vibration makes him jolt in his seat and earns him more than one funny side eye. As subtle as he can manage he unlocks his phone in his lap and immediately feels his face heat up at the image waiting for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Andrew: 2:25PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>kno ur in class rn</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>but would love to see u</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The photo that follows is a close up shot of Andrew’s fist wrapped around his cock, thumb swiping over the tip. Despite the firm grip, his dick is pressed flush against his abdomen and Neil wishes he was there right now, able to run his tongue across Andrew’s pale skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mind is just starting to play catch up again when he remembers the second message. Andrew wants to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>him? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s not sure what he’s meant to send in response, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>sporting a half chub inside his sweats but he can’t exactly shove his phone down his pants to take a photo in the middle of class. In a moment of panic, Neil opts for sending a photo of himself smiling with a thumbs up shot from the low angle of his lap. It isn’t for another forty minutes, when Neil is on his way back to Fox Tower that he gets another message from Andrew.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Andrew: 3:02PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>jesus fucking christ</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew doesn’t like when Neil apologises, doesn’t like when he says </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry </span>
  </em>
  <span>at all, so he settles for pressing a feather light kiss to the crook of his neck. It’s a good day for kisses, full of green lights and yeses, and Andrew’s fingers skirt around the bare skin of Neil’s hipbone. They’re standing in the shower, dedicating time to learning how to be gentle, how to navigate vulnerable moments like this. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but Neil can’t quite shake the pit of guilt that sits in his stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He bends down to reach for the two in one shampoo and conditioner, turning Andrew around so his back is to his chest. There’s a brief moment where Neil watches Andrew’s muscles ripple and tense, can almost see the tremor that passes through his body. But then with an audible breath the coils in his body release with a verbal “yes”. His hair is already drenched from how long they’ve been under the spray and Neil works the two in one easily into blonde hair, relishing in the way Andrew tilts his head back and almost keens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lets his fingers drag through hair, massaging and occasionally digging the blunts of his fingers into Andrew’s scalp. The silence becomes a bit too much when Andrew pulls away to rinse his own hair out, though, so Neil does his best to work through that heavy feeling. “You’re going to have to teach me how to sext, I think.” He gets a slight snort in return, but Neil knows Andrew isn’t laughing at him, would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>laugh at him when they’re like this, so he continues. “I uh, I feel bad about the thumbs up photo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Having finished washing out his hair, Andrew turns to face him again. His expression is bored looking, but his eyes are calculating, and Neil knows he’s filing something away he hadn’t even been aware he’d given away. Eventually he reaches up to push Neil’s sopping wet hair out of his eyes and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t move away to speak, slick lips moving over Neil’s skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, I’ll teach you.” Neil is almost glad Andrew’s skipped over the photo thing, when he presses a firm and flat palm against Neil’s abdomen, and a feeling other than guilt stirs in his gut. “Hope you’re a visual learner, Junkie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew mouths at Neil’s jaw, sucking and biting at the skin, lips curling at the breathy sounds that it elicits from Neil. He continues nipping down Neil’s neck, leaving a vibrant bruise across his collarbone. He pulls back momentarily to ask; “Yes or no?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes. Always yes, ‘drew.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew nods, dropping to his knees, hands firm on Neil’s hips, and takes him in his mouth. Neil is always so taken aback every time Andrew blows him, mouth warm and wet around him. It comes from how aggressively Andrew starts out, not hesitating to swallow Neil whole immediately. It’s the reason for the firm grip on Neil’s hips, but Neil knows better than to facefuck Andrew without warning. He can tell that Andrew has a hand around himself by the time Neil’s worked a hand into his hair by how his usual vigour slows down, panting around Neil’s cock like it’s a God given gift.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Incapable of actual speech at that moment, Neil taps Andrew’s shoulder twice, letting him know he’s about to cum, and all but loses his mind when Andrew insistingly takes him deeper. It’s not often that Andrew is happy to let Neil finish in his mouth, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>does he love it when he does. He comes with a strangled yelp, chest heaving as he watches Andrew swallow around him. When finished, he leans back on his feet, licking his lips and looking up at Neil from under hooded eyes and jerking himself off furiously. Andrew bites his lip so hard it splits when he comes under Neil’s watchful eye, and Neil wishes he had an eidetic memory like Andrew so he’d never forget the sight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later, when they’re dried off and dressed and laying in bed Neil will remember to ask what that had to do with sexting at all. He won’t get a verbal answer, but he thinks he sees an almost smile on Andrew’s face as he pushes Neil’s face away in exasperation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next photo comes not long after practise ends, Neil’s barely shut the door to his bedroom behind himself. It’s from Andrew, which is a little strange, since he knows the blonde had stayed behind with Kevin to work on his left hand, but Neil is quick to understand once he unlocks the phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew has left his face out of the image again, but it's clear he’s in the locker room showers. Compared to the first photos Andrew had sent him this one is relatively tame, showing wet collar bones, firm shoulders, and the start of Andrew’s pecs. The text that follows reads;</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Andrew: 5:46PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ready for ur first lesson?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil’s mouth runs dry in record time, and makes sure the door behind him is locked. He sends a silent apology to Nicky on the off chance he needs to get something from the room, because there’s very little chance he’ll be stopping to answer any polite knocks on the door. Neil types out a hurried response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Neil: 5:49PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>yes, tell me what to do andrew</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil’s phone buzzes a moment later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Andrew: 5:52PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>tell me what ur wearing</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil frowns down at his phone, taking a seat on his bunk. Andrew </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> what Neil’s wearing, having seen him less than an hour ago. Still, he relays that he’s in his orange Palmetto sweater and running shorts. After a moment's consideration he adds that they’re the blue ones, the ones he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>Andrew likes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Andrew: 5:59PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>take ur shirt off</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil almost rips the stitching of his sweater trying to get it and his undershirt off, tossing them onto the floor. There’s no follow up image, and Neil realises Andrew’s waiting for a photo, letting Neil make the next move, trusting Neil to let him know this is okay. Neil’s heart is hammering in his chest as he lays down on the bunk, shimmering down so he’s fully stretched out. The lighting is poor, but he manages to get a good photo of his naked chest, hand sprawled across his pecs. He’d managed to get the lower half of his face in the photo too, and is almost impressed with himself when he sees the way his lips part in an accidental pout. The photo gets an immediate response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Andrew: 6:07PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>good job baby</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>now show me those shorts.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Neil: 6:09PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i want to see you again first.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil bites back a shit eating grin when the tell tale dots of someone typing pops up. For the most part he’s just curious to know if Andrew is still in the showers, and briefly he wonders if Kevin is waiting on him. There’s something about Kevin being forced to sit and waiting in maserati while they sext that makes heat flare up in his abdomen. His mind is pulled back to the task at hand when Andrew sends through a second photo, confirming that Andrew is still standing under a hot spray of water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The photo in question is of Andrew’s hip bone, and the start of his upper thigh. Andrew’s forearm is in the photo, and though he can’t see it, he knows Andrew is jerking off in this. The fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>tease.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Andrew: 6:11PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>ur turn</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Neil curls onto his side, groaning at the feel of his boner rubbing against the fabric of his briefs. He tries to get an angle that shows off his ass, thighs and the obvious bulge in his pants but it’s not quite working. With a frustrated huff he settles for his ass being the prominent feature of the photo, his hand shoved down his pants so Andrew gets the general idea of what he’s doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil’s kicked his shorts off, hand teasing at his dick through the fabric of his briefs by the time Andrew responds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Andrew: 6:25PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>fuck, neil</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>u never told me you where a fast learner</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>what a good boy</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil smirks to himself, his hand reaching under his waist band to wrap around his cock. He snaps another photo. His arm takes up most of it, but the head of dick is poking out from his underwear, Neil’s long fingers clearly wrapped around it. He forgoes replying to Andrew’s obvious jab and tries to make a cohesive text with one hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Neil 6:31PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>wish you were here ‘drew</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>cant stop thinking about ur mouth on my dick </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>is that okay? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>will you let me think about that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not their usual type of permission, not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes or no </span>
  </em>
  <span>kind of question. Neil knows full well how Andrew feels about being in control. Sometimes it’s hard to know where the line from enjoyment bleeds into detachment, but Neil knows he struck the right kind of nerve when his phone starts ringing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first thing he hears when he picks up the phone is the sound of water running, followed by Andrew’s laboured breathing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You're thinking about me sucking you off, huh?” Andrew’s voice is absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrecked, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Neil already knows he’s close, and the knowledge goes straight to his dick. His own hand moves faster, letting slip more than a few breathy moans for Andrew’s sake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S’course I am.” Neil didn’t realise how heavy his tongue felt in his mouth until he’d spoken, slurring his words. He could barely focus with Andrew’s heavy panting in his ear, it was almost as good as the real thing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Nothing better than your mouth Andrew.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That seems to be enough for Andrew, because there’s a low groan and then silence from his end of the line. The sound of water shutting off doesn’t deter Neil, though, panting heavily. He knows Andrew would have hung up on him if his attitude had changed, Neil knows Andrew wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Andrew, I’m-can I-” He knows he’s whining, </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he can’t help himself. The coil in his abdomen tightens as he fucks his own hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can cum, baby.” Andrew’s voice is low. And Neil hears the telltale sound of a locker door slam shut. “Cum for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Neil does, a moan catching in his throat. He’s panting heavily when he comes back too, and is surprised to find Andrew still on the line. There’s the sound of a car door slamming shut and engine starting before Andrew finally speaks again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You better be cleaned up before I get back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Neil has just enough time to remember that Kevin is almost definitely in the car with Andrew before the line goes dead. His face is flushed an unbelievable red and his fingers are still tingling, but he makes a mad dash for the bathroom to clean up regardless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew realises his mistake several days later when he’s sitting in one of his criminology lectures. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he doesn’t really care enough to hide the fact that he’s on his phone in class. His professor shoots him a look, but doesn’t say anything. When he sees he has a message from Neil, he’s not expecting the image waiting for him when he opens it. He’s clearly propped the phone up against something, learnt how to use a self timer or something, there’s no other way he could have taken such a photo, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>is Andrew grateful he has.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s Neil in nothing but Andrew’s white jersey. He’s on his knees, thighs spread wide and welcoming as he jerks himself off. His head is tilted back, mouth open mid moan, and Andrew thinks he might be </span>
  <em>
    <span>drooling. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The flush that covers his face disappears under the shirt, and reappears at his thighs. It’s accompanied by a single message.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Neil: 1:00PM</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>thnkn of u</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Andrew shoves his books into his backpack in one fluid motion, doesn’t care how much noise he makes jolting out of his seat, and ignores his professor as he stomps out of the lecture hall and towards the maserati, already half hard in his jeans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes it to Fox Tower in record time.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kudos and comments make my day &lt;3</p><p>You can find my on the following social media;<br/>twitter: @greywarrenn<br/>tumblr: @grreywarrenn</p></blockquote></div></div>
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